Safe
by pressontoknow
Summary: "Another tear drips down my cheek as I stare at the bed I've pressed her into. All that time, I never knew." Jim finds out that Pam was abused by Roy, and the resulting aftermath. Based loosely on the events of 3x18, "The Negotiation". Slight AU. Alternating POVs.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own the Office or any of its characters.**

**Warning: mentions of sexual assault, assault and battery, physical and verbal abuse**

It's stupid, how I get the second black eye of my life.

I'm happy. So, so much happier than I've ever been in my whole life. If the happiness I ever shared with Roy was a blink, Jim is a blinding ray of sun that never, ever fades. I've never been more open with anyone. So vulnerable and open and free. What he doesn't know would only hurt him if he knew.

We were really wrapped up in each other the first few months we dated, kind of to the point of neglecting all our other friends. But we're trying to be more sociable now. I don't think I'll ever reach a point when I'm sick of Jim's company, but we both realize it may not be very healthy to cut ourselves off completely from the rest of society.

So in the interest of being sociable, we were playing volleyball with Mark, Jim's roommate; Mark's girlfriend, and some of their other friends on a nice Sunday in September. Not to brag, but I'm pretty amazing when it comes to volleyball. I played all through high school and most of college. Volleyball is something I'm confident about, so I try to play whenever I can.

That being said, my reflexes were not exactly up to par that afternoon. Jim and I stayed up late watching several episodes of our current show, Prison Break, and then we were kind of giddy from the stressful excitement of the show. So we stayed up talking awhile more, laughing hysterically like we always do, when suddenly the air in the room just…shifted. I don't really know how to explain it, but I've noticed that happens sometimes when we're both so happy with each other and then suddenly we want to be happy…in other ways together. It wasn't until a couple hours later, after engaging in some exciting extracurricular activities, that we finally fell asleep.

My point is, I wasn't well rested. In fact, I could barely keep my eyes open. The initial shock of the volleyball slamming into my face registered a second too late, and then Jim was running over and talking frantically to me, asking if I was okay.

We went to Urgent Care just to make sure everything was alright, but I'm fine. Just a black eye.

Jim didn't really see it that way. He's horrified that I'm hurt and he insisted on carrying me from the car to our apartment. It was sort of humiliating because I could see our neighbor peeking through her window at us, but I acquiesced to make Jim feel better. It was kind of nice that he catered to me the rest of the evening, although he's like that a lot just because he loves me, making sure I'm happy and comfortable.

We're in the bathroom together the next morning, him washing his face and me putting on my makeup. He grimaces as he sees my reflection in the mirror. "Crap, Pam, people are going to think I hit you."

I hold up my trusty concealer to his view. "Come on, it's not like I've never covered up a black eye before."

Dear God in heaven, what?! In hindsight I have no idea how the words got past my lips. I'm always so careful never to tell him about any of…that. But it just slipped out.

He jerks the towel away from his face and gapes at me for a long, long moment. In his eyes I can see everything he ever feared. His voice is a gasp. "What?"

I can't seem to form words. I don't even know where to begin. How do you tell your boyfriend, the person you love more than anyone has ever loved another person, that it was all happening right in front of him? He's going to blame himself, he's going to hate himself, and you for not telling him, he—

"Pam!"

Jim's harsh tone jolts me out of my chaotic train of thoughts. His eyes are still wide. "Tell me what you mean!"

My mouth closes and opens several times, rather like a fish. "It was just once," I finally whisper.

"Oh my God," he groans, his hands going up and tugging on his hair as he stares at the floor. "Oh my God, oh my God, Pam, when?!"

I swallow hard. It's happening. I tried to avoid this moment for so long. "Can we go sit down?"

He staggers out of the bathroom without even looking at me and collapses on our bed, the bed where just that morning he had kissed me awake. I sit gently beside him, not touching. I don't know if he wants me near him right now. My hands are shaking and I fold them tightly to keep him from seeing.

"It was just once," I repeat, and he flinches at my words. I keep my voice monotone. If I don't keep my emotions in check I'm going to fall apart, and that's the last thing we need right now. I keep my eyes focused on the crease of his pants next to his knee, even though I can feel his eyes on me.

"After he tried to attack you and Dwight pepper sprayed…everyone, you and Karen went to the bathroom to rinse out your eyes, and Dwight went to check on you. I walked over to Roy to give him a wet paper towel for his eyes, and he backhanded me. I fell and hit my head on the corner table. Dwight helped me up and…I left."

"_Dwight_ knew?" His voice is ravaged, like he's trying to keep from breaking down. I glance up to see his eyes studying me frantically, and I look away again. "I thought you'd taken the week off because you needed some time away…you were hiding what he _did_ to you?!"

I can feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes and I pinch my tear ducts quickly, trying to hold myself together. "I didn't want anyone else to know. I didn't want…_you_ to know." I straighten my shoulders to meet his eyes, but they almost break me. He looks so _sad_. Jim is the one who can make me laugh when my world is falling apart. I don't know how to do the same with him. "I didn't plan to take the whole week, but I looked really rough. Michael was very understanding."

"Michael," he breathes out and shakes his head. "Who else knows besides Dwight and Michael?"

I grimace. He's going to hate me. "Toby and Jan. I had to file a report with the company because Roy was an employee, and I also had to get the security videos for my lawyer so he could use them in Roy's trial. They all made sure to keep it very quiet."

His eyes are huge, and I can tell he's completely overwhelmed. "You pressed charges, right? What happened?"

"He was in jail for six months for battery," I reply quietly, "and I have a restraining order against him."

Jim looks like he's going to throw up. There isn't much emotion in his voice when he speaks again. "Did anyone else know besides those four?"

I nod. "My parents. My mom came to stay with me for a few days. And Amy and Keith. I had them film my testimony for the trial so I didn't have to be present."

He raises his brows at this. "I want to see the video. I want to know what happened."

A tear slips down my cheek, but I nod. He has the right to see it. "Okay. I'll talk to Amy about it today. But you should know…" I close my eyes for just a minute and two more tears escape, "that day isn't the only thing I talked about."

Jim presses his fist against his mouth. "There was more?"

I'm close enough to sobbing that I don't trust myself to speak. I just nod, and I can see his brain working quickly, putting the piece together. Some things probably make more sense now. Like the time I was in the kitchen making dinner and he grabbed my arm harder than usual because he wanted to show me a funny commercial that was on TV in the living room, and I flinched. Or how I hate when he sneaks up behind me. I've always managed to play those things off, chasing away the questions in his eyes before he even thinks to ask them. But there's no hiding anything now.

Jim slowly drops his head and rests his forehead in his hands, his elbows on his knees. He lets out a long breath, but doesn't say anything.

A quick glance at my bedside alarm clock tells me we're going to be late for work. I stand quietly. "I'm going to take my car. I'll tell Michael you're going to be a little late."

He doesn't say anything in response. In fact, by the time I leave our apartment ten minutes later, black eye completely covered, he hasn't so much as moved.

* * *

><p>I wait until I hear the door close before I let out a sob, and then there's no stopping my tears. How could I not have seen this? Everything makes sense now. How she scares so easily and hates when I yell. If I ever yell when we fight, she acquiesces so quickly and easily. I always thought it was strange, but I figured she's a gentle person and she just doesn't like when people raise their voice to her. I've tried to keep from raising my voice because I know nothing gets solved when I do. But now I know I'm never going to raise my voice at her ever again because it reminds her of someone who actually scared her, who actually hurt her. And I didn't even know.<p>

We've been dating for seven months. She knows everything about me, and I thought I knew everything about her. I just don't understand how she could have kept something like this from me. The rational part of my brain sort of understands why she did. I was with Karen and Pam had always been very clear that she wanted me to be happy with Karen if it was possible at the time. She didn't want to be "the other woman" and make me leave Karen just because Pam was available.

I know she hates how she let Roy treat her. She looks back on it now and she's ashamed that she put up with it for so long, letting him make her feel like she wasn't worth much.

But it's only now I realize that there's a lot she never told me about her and Roy. That maybe he made her feel absolutely worthless and that's why she's so insecure sometimes about how great her art is or how smart and clever and funny she is.

That maybe he used her body ill, and that's why she doubts sometimes that I think she's beautiful and sexy and amazing. Why she likes the lights off and only shows herself to me when I coax and tease and love her.

That maybe he hurt her, and that's why she's always so open when I'm especially gentle with her. Why she yelled when I picked her up that day, squeezing her harder than I meant to. Why she got that awful, anguished look in her eyes the few times I snuck up on her before I learned not to.

She was ashamed that he hit her, even though it wasn't her fault. That's why she didn't tell me.

I groan as horrible thoughts ravage my mind. I'm consumed with thoughts of Roy pushing her under him, holding her knees down, her little hands weak against the strength he pressed into her. I think of all the times he grabbed her arm or said things that were just a little too caustic and biting. If that was how he was in public, what about when they were home alone?

I heave in a shuddering breath, fighting back the urge to vomit. This day is only going to get worse, because I'm going to watch the video and really know what happened. I glance at the clock and struggle to my feet. I can't neglect my job just because the woman I love just shattered my heart with her pain. This has to be just as hard for her, reliving what must have been a horrible time. I need to at least try and be strong for her.

The negative part of me says that my strength doesn't really matter anymore, because someone else's strength already hurt her.

Another tear drips down my cheek as I stare at the bed I've pressed her into, reveling in her giggles and moans and heaving breaths. All that time, I never knew.


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own the Office or any of its characters.**

**Warning: mentions of sexual assault, assault and battery, physical and verbal abuse**

It takes an extraordinary amount of willpower to keep from crying on my drive to work, but I know if I do my concealer will disappear and then what was the point of any of this? I haven't felt this sad since I realized I loved Jim and then saw him and Karen together. This time might actually be worse because I know that I'm the reason he's hurting. If I just hadn't said those stupid words—

I end up having to repair my face a little in my visor mirror before I walk into work. My eyes are red from crying but I don't really care at this point. I just have to talk to Amy. Unfortunately the phone is already ringing by the time I walk in and I'm stuck at my desk for a good half hour dealing with an unprecedented amount of calls this early in the morning. Seriously, the one day I need to not be busy, I'm swamped?

I rap lightly on Michael's door and tell him Jim is running late. He lifts his head, eyes shining like he's going to make a joke, but he stops when he sees my face. I must look pretty rough to bring a Michael Scott joke to a halt. I think he knows it's finally out.

Amy and Keith are in the conference room discussing the shoot for that day. I force a small smile as I walk in. "Hey, do you guys have a moment?"

"Of course, Pam," Amy says kindly, gesturing for me to sit while Keith goes to shut the door behind me before sitting down next to her. "What's up?"

I swallow hard, tears rushing to my eyes suddenly and almost breaking me. I close my eyes for a moment and take in a shuddering breath. "Jim wants to see…my testimony."

Keith's brow furrows. "I thought you didn't want him to know."

I shrug sadly. "I got a black eye playing volleyball yesterday and this morning it just…slipped out, it was so stupid…" We're quiet for a few seconds and I exhale softly. "So is there any way I could get a copy?"

Keith nods quickly. "I have everything on my laptop, so I can get it to you within the hour if you want."

"That'd be great," I reply, a tiny smile of relief appearing.

I'm about to continue when there's a knock on the door and Jim sticks his head in. He studies the three of us for a moment before walking in and shutting the door behind him, coming to sit next to me. I want to cry just from looking at him. His eyes are bloodshot and he looks so sad and tired. I want to take away all the pain in those eyes. Only problem is, I'm the one who put it there.

"Jim," Amy says finally, "Keith was just telling Pam that he can get the video to her within the hour. I don't mean to interfere, but maybe it would be best for the two of you to take the rest of the day off and talk about this."

"Don't want to interfere?!" Jim spits out, startling all of us with the sudden outburst. "You've been interfering long before this, Amy. You guys _knew_ how much I loved her, you _knew_ I hated Roy! How could you keep this kind of thing from me?!"

Amy takes a deep breath but looks relatively unfazed. I guess we've all snapped at her enough that she's used to it by now. "We were respecting Pam's wishes, Jim. She specifically requested that this be kept quiet from everyone in the office, especially you. Additionally, we just film portions of your lives as impartial observers. We don't try to orchestrate events so things will work out the way we want."

He still looks angry, but I can tell that Amy's gentle, calming tone is soothing Jim's shot nerves. I want to reach out and hold his hand, which is fidgeting restlessly on top of the table, but I don't want Amy and Keith to see him push me away. I can only imagine the thoughts that are racing through his head; I'll be surprised when he touches me again willingly.

We're all quiet for a good, long minute before Keith stands. "I'll go get started." Amy nods and watches him leave before facing us again.

"Amy, can you go get Michael and Dwight?" Jim asks softly. She nods and starts to stand.

"Jim," I gasp out, halting Amy. He hasn't looked at me this whole time, but now he does and I hate the look in his eyes because he looks like he wants to keep me safe, wants to protect me, but he knows now that there were times when he wasn't there. I gasp in a breath. "I just…I want you to watch the video first, before you talk to them. I would just…like to not destroy our friendships on the same day that I've destroyed our relationship."

Within the next second Jim has hauled me into his arms, the armrest of my chair pressing painfully into my middle, and Amy is out the door, seeming to recognize we need some time alone. "It's not destroyed, Pam," Jim chokes out. "I love you. I love you even more than I hate Roy, which is saying a lot right now."

My laugh is wet with tears and muffled into his shoulder, but I can feel the small smile from where his mouth is pressed against my forehead. He pulls away from me gently and looks into my eyes. "We're going to get past this, Pam, just like we've gotten past so much other crap. There's…a lot we need to work through, but I agree with you. Watching that video is the first thing to do."

I sniff and wipe at my eye, registering the pain a moment later. I see him cringe as he looks at me, and I glance down to see concealer on my hand. That's just great.

"Was it this bad?"

Jim's broken voice interrupts my train of thoughts and I look up to see him studying my eye critically, his shoulders tense like he really doesn't want to hear the answer. I steel myself to answer honestly, because this isn't the place for lies anymore. I need to be brutally honest with him. "Worse," I whisper. "You'll…see it."

He blanches and drops his head. "I hate this," he whispers. "All I ever wanted was for you to be happy."

"I'm happy now," I reply, my voice soft but firm as I squeeze his hand. "That's all that matters."

He lets out a shaky sigh and a tear drips onto the back of my hand. I swallow hard, willing myself to keep it together for him. "Let's just stay in here until Keith's ready, and then we can leave," I offer quietly.

"Okay," Jim says, raising his eyes to meet mine briefly. "Michael…"

"I'll go talk to him," I say, standing before he can argue. Jim is completely overwhelmed right now. If there's anything I can do to lift some of the burden, I will. "Give me just a minute."

I barge right into Michael's office, hoping to God he's not naked, but if anyone else sees my eye it'll just open up another can of worms. Thankfully he's just sitting at his desk signing some documents. He glances up when I enter and his welcoming smile fades when he sees my eye. "Pam, what the hell?"

"I'm fine," I say softly, shutting the door quickly behind me. I pause for a moment, unsure of what to say. "Jim and I were playing volleyball with some friends yesterday… Is it alright if we take the rest of the day off?"

"Yeah," Michael agrees immediately, standing up and coming over to me, touching my arm gently. "Absolutely. Take tomorrow too if you want. How is he?"

"He's…really angry. At Roy, at me, at…you and everyone else who knew."

He nods solemnly. "Well I can talk to him if you want—"

I shake my head quickly. "We're going to go home and he's going to watch the video of my testimony. After that I have a feeling he'll want to talk but…just not today."

"I understand," Michael assures. "Just…let me know if you guys need anything. I'll stay out of your way 'til you leave."

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice cracking on the last word. "For everything, Michael, I never thanked you—"

He pulls me gently into his arms as I let out a sob. "You're the last person in the world I ever want to see hurt, Pamela Beesly-someday-Halpert." I let out a short laugh. "There are absolutely no thanks necessary."

I pull away and wipe at my eyes, at this point not caring anymore about my concealer. Michael cringes, just like Jim did when he saw me. "We'll let you know if we're coming in tomorrow," I say hastily, anxious to go see if Keith's done and get out of this office.

Michael nods. "Alright, Pam. I'll check if the coast is clear." He opens the door and glances around quickly. "Stanley's still out there…" He looks back at me. "I'll go talk to him, block his view."

"Thanks, Michael," I whisper, unclipping my hair and brushing it across my face as an extra precaution. We step out quickly, Michael going to enthusiastically ask Stanley how his weekend was and me sneaking back to the conference room.

* * *

><p>I'm alone in the conference room while Pam goes to talk to Michael, still trying to wrap my mind around this whole awful day, when Amy comes back in. She sits across the table from me and slides a disc across until it's in front of me.<p>

"What's this?" I ask, picking it up. My mouth goes dry at the simple label in Toby's hand writing: "Roy/Pam Assault". Three words to sum up what is potentially the worst thing that's ever happened to Pam, or to me.

"It's the security video that was shown at Roy's trial," Amy explains. "I don't know if Pam's ever seen it but—"

We're interrupted when the door opens and we both turn to see Pam. Amy waits for her to sit down next to me before continuing. "Pam," Amy begins gently, gesturing to the disc in front of me, "I got a copy of the security video of that day from Toby. I just want you both to have…as much information as possible so you can discuss everything you need to. Of course it's up to both of you whether or not you want to watch it."

Pam is pale as she looks down at the disc, and I gently take her hand and squeeze it. The gesture seems to snap her out of her trance. She smiles briefly at me before looking at Amy. "I—I've never seen it."

Amy nods. "I didn't know if you had. And you don't have to watch it if you don't want to. Toby doesn't need it back—he has another copy. So you can watch it, throw it away, burn it…it's up to you guys."

Pam offers her a small smile. "Thanks, Amy. For…everything."

"Of course," Amy replies quietly, giving us both a genuine smile. "I really do care about you both, even if sometimes it seems like I'm just here for the job. I'm here for you guys too." She stands and gestures to the door. "I'm going to go see how Keith's coming along."

"Thanks," I say softly as she leaves, and Pam and I are quiet for a moment after the door closes. I take a deep breath and look at her. "How long after…did they film your testimony?"

She thinks about this for a moment. "Well, right after it happened I went to the police station and I was interviewed. They took pictures of…my injuries, and that afternoon I got in contact with a lawyer. I happened to mention the documentary and he asked that, if it wasn't too much trouble, they film my testimony in full, just so it was on record. It happened on Monday, so I guess it must have been Thursday afternoon that Amy and Keith came to my apartment. Michael and Toby came that morning too, to help me fill out the report." She grimaces. "That was…the day I looked the worst. I just want you to be prepared."

I reach up and gently touch the bruise around her eye, soft enough that it doesn't hurt her. "Nothing can prepare me for this, Pam." I stroke her cheek with the back of my finger before taking her hand again. "Did Amy have…a list of questions or something?"

Pam shakes her head. "She just told me to talk until I felt like I'd said everything. I had a list of things my lawyer had requested I include, just so everything needed for the trial would be there. I ended up talking about a lot more than just that day…I guess I was just happy to finally be able to talk about everything."

I feel nauseous at the fact that any of this ever happened at all, much less that she had to relive it by talking about it and was grateful to be able to, but I try to smile. "That's…good. I'm glad you were able to talk about it. You know you can…always talk to me."

Pam nods and looks me right in the eye, holding my gaze. "I want to say something, before the video, before…anything else." She glances down at our clasped hands for a moment and takes a deep breath before looking up again. "I knew, once we started dating, that eventually the time would come when I would tell you about this. I've been wanting to for awhile now, because I love you and I trust you completely. I just…I had no idea how to do it. I mean, how do you even bring something like that up? But I just want to get it out there and say that, even though this day has been awful, and it's not really going to get any better, I'm sort of glad I slipped and told you. Because what we have is built on being open and…_honest_ with each other." Her eyes are shiny with tears and she purses her lips. "I never wanted you to know but…I realize that you _need_ to know."

I squeeze her hand and lift it to press my lips to her palm. "I do. But Pam, this is only going to bring us closer together."

She doesn't respond verbally, but I can see the relief in her eyes. "I know, Jim. I really, really want that."

Just then there's a light tap on the door and Keith comes in, shutting the door behind him. He holds up a disc and Pam and I both stand. "Here it is," he says, handing the DVD to Pam. "Amy's gathering everyone in the kitchen to talk about cleaning the microwave."

I smirk. "That was the best you guys could come up with?"

Keith chuckles. "We figured you guys have meetings about stupid things all the time, so this wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary."

Pam lets out a quiet laugh, and my heart leaps to see her smile genuinely after seeing her eyes sad for so long. "That sounds about right."

Keith opens the door and glances out before turning and giving us a thumbs up. "Looks like the coast is clear. Let me or Amy know if you guys need anything, our numbers are on the back of the CD case." He nods and slips out.

"Ready?" I ask, walking to the door and gently leading Pam by the hand.

She nods and arranges her hair over her eye. We slip out, thankfully not running into any of our coworkers, and quickly gather our things before walking to the elevator. I let out a long breath as the doors close and squeeze Pam's hand, trying to mentally prepare myself for the worst part of this horrible day.


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't own the Office or any of its characters.**

**Warning: mentions of sexual assault, assault and battery, physical and verbal abuse**

I alternate between nauseous anxiety and adrenaline-induced hyperventilation on the drive home. Inwardly I'm an anxious wreck because I'm reliving the worst day of my whole life, and Jim is going to see all of it. With the addition of this security video he'll literally be seeing every part of that awful day, which is more than I had anticipated this morning when I told him about my original recorded testimony. The idea of him actually seeing Roy hit me…this, I didn't want. For that matter I don't know how I'm going to watch that video with him, to really relive the moment again.

I press my forehead against the steering wheel once I park, trying to take deep breaths and calm down before I legitimately have a panic attack. The knock on my window nearly sends me spiraling, and I look up at Jim with tears clouding my vision.

He opens my door and silently reaches across to unbuckle my seatbelt, grabbing my purse from the passenger seat in the same motion. He steps back and allows me to shakily climb out of the car before pulling me gently into his arms. I find that I don't feel as anxious when I'm squeezing him tightly, so I keep my arms around him as we walk to the front door of our apartment.

Jim unlocks the door and lets me go inside first. On autopilot I walk into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea like I always do when we come home from work, and it's then I see my unfinished breakfast sitting on the counter by the sink. I should probably eat something, just so that my blood sugar won't be so low and I wouldn't be so shaky, but I think I'd throw up if I ate anything right now.

My hands are shaking visibly now as I hold the teapot under the sink to fill it with water. I set it on the burner with a loud clatter and in the next moment hear Jim's footsteps and feel his arms wrap around me. He reaches around me to turn on the burner and covers my hands with his. "It's going to be okay," he whispers, keeping his arms around me with a firm pressure that calms my frazzled nerves.

I can't stop the tears now, and when I let out a quiet sob Jim turns me in his arms and holds me close. I sniffle softly into his button-up, already regretting the makeup stains I know this will leave. "I never wanted you to see this," I say, my voice loud and hysterical in the quiet of the kitchen. "I know you're going to hate yourself, you're going to think you should have seen what was happening, but you're the person I hid it most from because I loved you even then and I never wanted you to feel responsible and I'm ashamed—"

Jim's soft, gentle kiss stops the frantic words that are pouring out of my lips. He pulls away just a hairsbreadth and I draw in a deep, shaky breath that ends in a gut-deep sob. "He made me feel like I wasn't worth anything."

His cheek is pressed against my forehead and I can feel his tears now as he gathers me impossibly closer. "You are worth everything to me," he responds in a tear-choked voice, and my heart swells with the love for him that's always consuming me.

We hold each other just like that until the kettle starts whistling. I pull away slowly, wiping my eyes with the backs of my hands and mindlessly making myself a cup of tea. I take another mug out of the cupboard and gesture with it to Jim. "Ready to change your ways?" I ask with a smile like I do every afternoon when we come home. The joke never fails to make him smile.

This time he lets out a delighted laugh, rather like when I told him I loved him for the first time and I know he's thrilled that I'm up to joking. He fakes a contemplative look for a moment before shrugging. "You know, Beesly, I think I am." He holds up a hand at my huge smile. "_Just_ for today. Don't go getting any ideas."

I snicker and make him a mug just like I make mine, not knowing how he likes it because he's never wanted tea before. I study him expectantly as he takes a cautious sip and laugh at his grimace. "I'm only doing this because I love you, woman," he says in a mock-gruff tone.

I roll my eyes and grin loftily. "Yeah right, Halpert, you can't fool me. Even now your taste buds are conforming to my ways."

He grins fondly at me and shakes his head. "Yeah, you wish."

We're quiet for a moment and Jim sobers before gesturing to the living room. "Are you ready for this?"

I swallow hard and nod. "You love me, right?"

"Always," he replies immediately, his gaze so intense it melts my heart.

"I love you too," I respond. "And this is only going to bring us closer together."

He nods, turns, and walks out of the kitchen. I follow him.

* * *

><p>As Pam and I walk over to the couch I think about how strong she was this morning when I was falling apart. And how I find strength within to help her when she's not very strong herself. Our weaknesses make us stronger.<p>

As I slip the disc into the DVD player and join Pam on the couch, I think we're going to need our combined strength to get through this. I grab her hand and she squeezes mine in response.

In my whole life, nothing has ever hurt so bad as seeing Pam's face on that screen. Unconsciously I let out a soft groan, and Pam squeezes my hand again.

There are about fifteen seconds with Pam just sitting, glancing around the room as Amy and Keith talk quietly in the background, getting everything set up. She's in her old apartment at her kitchen table by the window that looked out on the parking lot. When we first started dating she would always stand at that window and wave at me as I parked and walked to the stairs.

She's right—this is much worse. There's blood pooled in and around her right eye, giving her gaze a reddish tint. Her eyelid and the skin beneath her eye are a myriad of colors—black, blue, purple. Her cheek is also badly bruised. Her bottom lip is split and she licks it unconsciously like it's causing her pain. She looks exhausted, but in her eyes I see a sort of purposeful strength that lets me know she's not broken.

"Okay, Pam," Amy's voice comes through softly, "for a full record of your injuries would you please turn and show us the back of your head?"

She nods and turns in her chair, lifting her hair to show a line of about ten stitches at the very nape of her neck. The skin is shaved and bruised and swollen, and I try to think of a time when she wore her hair up the rest of the year, and come up empty. I feel like I'm going to throw up and she hasn't even spoken yet.

"Thank you," Amy says as Pam turns back around. "Would you please state your full name and the date?"

"Okay," Pam agrees in a shaky voice. She looks into the camera. "My name is Pamela Morgan Beesly. Today is April 27, 2007."

"Thanks, Pam," Amy says. "You can begin whenever you're ready. Don't limit yourself—just talk until you feel like you've said everything you need to."

"Okay," Pam says with a small smile in Amy's direction. She glances down at her hands and takes a deep breath. "Okay," she whispers softly, seemingly to herself. Then she looks back up at the camera.

"I'm going to start off," she begins, "by saying that Roy Anderson, my ex boyfriend, only ever hit me once, and that happened the day after I told him Jim had kissed me, when he came to Dunder Mifflin and Dwight pepper sprayed him." She grimaces at the memory and pauses to gather her thoughts. "Jim Halpert is my coworker. He loved me once, and when I was engaged he told me that one night and kissed me. Dwight Schrute is also my coworker."

"So he'd never hit me before," she continues, "but it wasn't like he'd never been violent. Roy gets angry so easily. We were really happy when we were dating and for a couple months after we got engaged." She shakes her head. "But after that things really went downhill. After he lost his job as a bartender and started working at Dunder Mifflin, Roy started drinking way more than he used too. Soon he was drunk every night, hanging out with the guys at bars til like 2 AM every night." Several seconds of silence pass as Pam stares down at the table, and finally she takes a deep breath and shrugs, offering a self-deprecating smile. "Sometimes he was a nice drunk, saying how much he loved me and how beautiful I was and how he couldn't wait to marry me. But other times…he'd get angry at every little thing, like if someone cut him off on the drive home or I hadn't saved any dinner for him or…well, anything really."

I clench my jaw and take a moment to consciously stop gripping Pam's hand so hard that there's a risk I'll break it. She responds by squeezing mine harder, neither of us looking away from the TV.

"He'd yell for hours," the Pam on screen continues softly, "not letting me go to sleep, and say awful, terrible things, like how he'd kill me if I ever cheated on him, or how I was never going to be anything without him, or how some girl at the bar that night had been so beautiful, telling me all about her body." She scoffs and her brow furrows as she speaks earnestly. "His words tore me apart, because wasn't he supposed to love me? Hadn't he asked me to marry him?"

I can see her eyes shining with tears, and she's silent for a full thirty seconds. I hear the shifting of a body, maybe Amy about to speak, when Pam takes a deep breath. Her voice is soft and sad. "There were a lot of nights when I'd be asleep when he came home and he'd want to have sex. I guess you could call that rape, at least sometimes. A lot of times it was easier to just go along with it than to fight with him about why I'd said no." I hate the blush that's coloring her cheeks. She's ashamed, and Roy's the only one who should be. I'm surprised by her next words. "He always accused me of liking Jim when I denied him, and I hated fighting about that. Other times…" Her voice trails off and a tear slips down her cheek. A hand slides a box of tissues across the table to her and she whispers her thanks as she pulls one out and dabs at her eyes. Finally she speaks again. "Other times I'd try to say no and he'd just pull my pants down and shove in. It hurt so much. When that happened he'd be too drunk to even notice I was crying. I just felt so disrespected, so absolutely worthless."

My heart is being ripped out and stomped on and set on fire and—

I put my arm around Pam's shoulders and pull her close, holding her hand suddenly not being enough. She grips my hand tightly and leans her head against my chest. Her tears soak through my shirt.

Her voice is stronger when she speaks again. "Roy didn't really understand what it meant to consider the feelings of others. My arms were always bruised from when he'd grab me. That's why I never wore short sleeves, even in the summer. And a lot of times there were bruises in the shape of fingerprints all over my body from when he was too rough. Maybe he didn't know his own strength. Maybe he did know, and he knew how to use it."

I let out a groan, not even trying to contain it. All those days I was laughing with her and flirting with her, and she was going home to this douchebag who brutalized her. To think that she was bruised when we pranked Dwight and when I gave her the teapot and when…

Pam holds me even tighter at the anguished sound that rips through my throat, and I do the same. We're basically clinging to each other at this point and she hasn't even described that awful day yet.

"My coworker, Phyllis, got married a few weeks ago, and I guess the wedding was just really rough. People kept asking me if I was sad to be at a wedding when mine should have been the previous year, and Jim was with his new girlfriend, Karen, and the whole night just sucked overall. I called off my wedding because of a lot of things. Roy was mean and awful. But I'd also realized that I love Jim. The only problem is, he has a girlfriend now and seems really happy, so now I'm the one whose love is unrequited. It's awful." Her bottom lip is trembling and it breaks my heart to hear her so sad over me. "Anyway, I went to the bathroom to be alone for a few minutes and Roy came to find me. He was acting so sweet and concerned, and I was so tired of seeing Jim happy with Karen, so I left with him." She shakes her head. "It was a stupid, weak moment. I was so much happier apart from him than I'd ever been when we were together but I hated seeing Jim and…"

She sniffs and shakes her head as if to refocus her mind. "So I left with Roy. We went to the bar down the street to talk, and he asked if I would consider going out with him again. I said that if we did that we would have to be completely honest with each other, and that was when I told him about the casino night when Jim kissed me. He got so, so angry, started yelling right away and it just brought back all these awful memories. He threw his cup and broke a mirror, and I told him it was over and walked out. I was really scared because I knew how angry he was and I was worried he would follow me, but I could hear him still yelling and throwing things inside the bar. I was shaking the whole way home, and I locked all the windows and doors in my apartment. He called me five times, yelling awful things, calling me a slut and a whore. And around one he banged on my door, saying I had to let him in, but I told him I'd call the police if he didn't go away so he finally left."

Pam lets out a weary sigh. Her voice is monotone now, like she's trying to suppress all her emotions so she doesn't fall apart. "After the pepper spray Jim and Karen went to the bathroom to rinse his eyes out, and Dwight went to check on them for just a minute. I walked over to Roy, just to give him a wet paper towel for his eyes, and he backhanded me. I fell and hit my head really hard on the table next to the sofa."

The Pam in my arms shivers involuntarily and I gather her closer. "I'd never been so aware of how strong he was, how terrifying he was when he was angry, even though I'd been scared of him before, more times than I could count. No one was there but Roy, and he couldn't even stand, but I was still terrified. Dwight came out a few seconds later and ran over to me. He looked so angry, I knew I must have looked awful." A tear slips down her cheek and she swipes it away. "'Don't tell anyone,' I whispered," and her voice is awful and broken, "and I got my things and ran out before anyone else could see. Thank God the parking lot was empty and I didn't see anyone on my way to my car. I called Michael on the way to the police station and told him the whole story, emphasizing how I didn't want anyone in the office to know, especially Jim. He agreed to give me the rest of the week off to recover and promised that he and Toby would come by my apartment to help me file the report."

She lets out a shaky sigh, as if there's a weight off her chest now that she's finally recounted that awful day. "I reported everything that happened to the police, let them take pictures of my injuries, and filed a restraining order. Then I went to the hospital. I have a mild concussion, so my mom came down for a few days to take care of me. I also have a black eye, a split lip, and there's a tiny fracture to my cheekbone but the doctors didn't have to do anything, it'll just heal on its own. My clothes were ruined because my nose and head had bled so much, but I didn't care about that."

"I went to see Dwight yesterday and we sat on the porch of his farmhouse and drank beet tea. All he said was, 'Nobody else knows,' and then we just sat in silence. Well, I cried. And he held my hand." She shrugs, her gaze teary again. "It was actually really nice."

"Michael and Toby came to my apartment this morning which, in hindsight, wasn't really the best idea because I look the worst today. They were both so shocked and angry, and Michael begged me to let him tell Jim but I told him I'd quit if he did that. There's no way Jim can ever know. We filed a report with Jan on speaker, and she promised me that we were the only ones who were ever going to know about this." Her voice trails off and she stares off into the distance for a moment before looking back at the camera and nodding. "I think that's it." A few seconds later the screen goes black.

Pam's sobbing softly into my chest now and I shift until I'm leaning against the armrest and she's in my lap, her face buried against my shoulder. I hadn't thought anything could ever hurt as much as it had when I walked away from her after the casino night, but this is impossibly worse. So many times she needed someone to keep her safe, and I was blind.


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't own the Office or any of its characters.**

**Warning: mentions of sexual assault, assault and battery, physical and verbal abuse**

**AN: I had a question about the general timeline of this fic, specifically whether or not it's AU. Basically in this fic Jim and Pam are seven months into their dating relationship and are living together. I realize this may be AU but it's just what I'm going with. I don't know if I'll include their engagement in this fic because then I'd have to go into Pam's going to college, but their engagement would occur approximately 2-3 months after this fic in my timeline. If you have any other questions feel free to ask!**

**This chapter is longer than any so far but I didn't feel like I could break it up. Please let me know what you think!**

"This sucks."

I'm roused from my post-crying doze by Jim's low voice, gravelly from tears. I nod, my face still pressed against his chest. "Yeah."

He leans back and looks down at me. "Is that the first time you've seen it?"

I nod. "It was hard enough just talking about it all, I didn't want to watch the final result." We're quiet for another long moment, both deep in thought. I feel like any words I say will just be a few of the thousands that will have to be spoken as we get through this. It's hard to know where to begin. "Are you going to watch the security video?"

Jim hums softly and I enjoy the vibration against my cheek. "Are you? Do you want me to?"

"I don't want to see it again," I admit. "It's up to you if you want to watch it."

Jim pushes gently against my shoulders until I'm halfway into a sitting position and we can look at each other. "But do you _want_ me to watch it? I mean, I don't have to…"

I shrug. "I honestly don't know. On the one hand I think maybe you'll always wonder…but then I don't want you to see that every time you look at me, or be afraid to touch me."

He nods, his eyes staring off into the distance as if he's deep in thought. "Well, I know it'd be too much for me to handle right now. Let's say we hold onto it for a few days, and I'll let you know what I decide."

I smile and am about to snuggle up against him again when my stomach suddenly growls loudly. Jim raises his eyebrows and smirks adorably at me. "I didn't finish my breakfast this morning," I explain with a blush and a sheepish smile.

"Well, it's only eleven," Jim replies, checking his watch, "but we could go out to lunch, or we could stay here if you want." He holds up a hand. "You know what, I actually have an idea. What if we went to see your parents tonight? We could grab some lunch on our way out of town."

I take a moment to consider this. I know he wants to do this so he can talk to my parents about the…incident, I guess you could call it. And it'll be good to get that out of the way, even if it's a little sooner than I'd expected. Finally I nod, just as Jim is starting to look worried. "Okay. Let me just call my mom really quick and make sure they're not busy."

My mom answers on the third ring. I'm in the kitchen, my phone cradled between my ear and my shoulder while I wash the dishes. Jim has gone out to his car to grab his bag, which he forgot earlier. "Hey honey!" my mom answers.

"Hi Mama," I reply, smiling involuntarily. My mom always makes me feel good. "So Jim and I were wondering if it would be okay if we came and saw you guys today, maybe stayed the night."

There's silence on the other end for a few seconds. "Pam, is everything alright?"

I sigh. "Okay, so yesterday Jim and I were playing volleyball with some friends of ours and I got hit in the face by the volleyball so now I have a black eye. And this morning I accidentally told Jim about what happened last April. We've had a really rough day and I know he probably has a lot of questions, and also we'd just like to spend some time with you and Dad, get our minds off of things. Michael gave us tomorrow off also to deal with this. Are you busy tonight?"

"I just have to make cookies for my Bible study tomorrow morning, but you could help me with that. And your dad was going to help me hang up some pictures in the living room, so maybe Jim could help him. What time are you thinking you'll be here?"

I turn as Jim comes in and shrug even though I know she can't see it. "Well we still have to pack and we're going to go grab some lunch beforehand so...between four and five?" I raise my eyebrows and Jim nods his agreement, leaning against the counter to wait for me.

"That sounds great, sweetheart. I'll let your dad know! Text me when you're on your way."

"Okay," I reply, "we'll see you in a few hours. Love you, Mama."

"Love you too, sweetheart. Bye."

Jim smiles as I hang up. "So what does your mom have planned for us?"

I laugh. This is an ongoing joke between us—my mom always feels like she has to have every minute planned when she has guests come, especially if it's people besides her immediate family, like Jim. She's starting to calm down now that she's gotten to know Jim a little better, and also since I've told her how he really likes to not have a ton of stuff to do. His family is such a contrast to mine—when we go visit his parents often we'll just spend hours hanging out, nothing planned. It's how we normally are at our home, so I always like that environment. "Well, I'm helping my mom bake cookies, and you're helping my dad hang up some pictures in the living room."

"Hold up," Jim protests, holding his hand up in front of him, "what if _I_ want to bake cookies? Don't I get a choice in the matter?"

I shake my head, trying to fight back a grin as I walk slowly towards him, finally stopping just a step away with his hands on my hips. "Sorry, mister, baking is more my thing in this case."

"Oh, I know," Jim replies, looking pointedly at a painting of a bowl of fruit hanging on the wall by the sink. I painted it in one of my first art classes and it's the only things I hung up in our apartment. It's constantly crooked because it's at an angle where I can't look at it straight on, but Jim always teases me about it. "You and I both know that interior design is maybe not one of the areas you're gifted in."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, well, some of us can't hang pictures straight…some of us can't even snap our fingers."

"Now that is low, Beesly," Jim protests, a wide grin betraying him. "You know I'm insecure about that."

"Oh yeah, so insecure," I shoot back, pressing even closer to him and reveling in the flirtatious tone of his voice. I feel like it's been days since we've played and joked around like this, though in actuality it's only been hours. "Come on, Halpert, you know your lack of dexterity is made up for at least in part by your hot bod."

Jim quirks his eyebrows at me, obviously trying to keep from bursting out laughing. "'My hot bod', huh? You're one to talk."

I raise my eyebrows, expecting him to continue, and tilt my head towards him. "Oh, don't stop there! Come on, tell me how beautiful I am."

His eyes soften and he gently frames my face with his hands, gazing at me intently. "You're so beautiful," he whispers.

My face heats up, both from a blush and from tears which are, not surprisingly, again springing up in my eyes.

"You are, Pam," Jim continues softly. "I knew it the first day I saw you. You are beautiful physically, and just…the _person_ that you are is even more beautiful. I fell in love with you so easily, and I'm only falling harder every day. Even today."

A tear slips down my cheek and Jim brushes it away with his thumb. I let out a shaky sigh and smile. "God, Jim, you can't expect me to hear something like that and not cry, even on a good day."

"This is still a good day," he inserts, reaching down to take my hands again.

I nod in agreement. "You're right. Any day I'm with you is a good day, even if it's a hard day." I take in a deep breath and exhale harshly. "And, okay, while we're still on the topic of like…physical stuff," Jim smirks at my blush, "I just want to make sure you know that you've never scared me in any way." He sobers and squeezes my hands. "I just think maybe you might worry about that…like hurting me or forcing me to do something…after finding out about all this, but I trust you completely, and I always have, with my heart, with my dreams, _and_ with my body. When I'm with you it's because I _want_ to be with you." I press up against him until I'm practically cross-eyed but I just want to be close to him. He gives me a small smile in response and waits for me to continue, but I just feel like there's so much that needs to be said and I don't know where to begin. I stare at the hollow of his throat for a long moment, trying to figure out what to say.

"I just…" Jim finally begins, his voice trailing off, "you would have told me, right? If there was ever anything you weren't comfortable with or I did something…" He shakes his head slowly and drops his gaze to our joined hands, his face tortured.

"Jim," I say in a more forceful voice, "I love you. I _enjoy_ being with you because I love you. And you've never done anything that I didn't want. You're gentle, and respectful, and playful, and kind." I sigh and press my lips hard against his, wrapping my arms around his neck. When we break apart he's breathing heavily and devouring me with his eyes in that way I love. "I love you, baby," I whisper. "I love you so much, and I trust you with every part of me, and—"

He kisses me silent for the second time that day, but again I don't mind. "I hate this," he moans sadly when he pulls away. "And I love you. I love you so much it feels like I'm dying."

My heart's melting and I'm about to cry again as I nuzzle my face into the hollow where his neck meets his shoulder. "Such a cheeseball," I whisper through my tears.

His laugh is loud and joyful and warms my heart. "Yeah, well, you're a flirt so…"

We pull away and both wipe at our eyes. "Always have been with you," I quip, but my smile fades as Jim's does.

"Did he ever do anything…because of me?" Jim chokes out.

My throat is aching but I force myself to speak anyway after a long moment of silence. "Do you want to go sit down again?"

His eyes fill with more tears at my response and a few slip out as he replies, "You're okay going without lunch for a little while longer?"

"I'm just going to grab a pop tart to hold me over," I reply softly, some part of the back of my mind pointing out how weird it is that we're both so close to breaking down as we discuss snacks. "I'll be right there."

* * *

><p>My leg is bouncing restlessly as I sit on the couch waiting for Pam, my mind racing. I need her to just hurry up and tell me everything so my imagination will stop running wild.<p>

The three minutes she's in the kitchen feel like an eternity, but finally she comes in carrying a mug and a plate. She sets both on the coffee table and sits on the other side of the loveseat so we can face each other, grabbing a pop tart from the plate as she does. "I texted my mom and told her we got sidetracked so we'll probably be a little late. I brought two," she comments, gesturing to the plate with the remaining pop tart. "You can have the other one, it's still warm."

I nod and grab the pastry, nibbling frantically on it as I wait for her to speak. She breaks her pop tart into several pieces, staring at it intently before sighing and meeting my gaze. "I know you're probably imagining all these worst-case scenarios, so you really need to know everything that happened."

I almost comment on how accurate she is at reading my thoughts but I feel like I'd choke from stress so I just nod in response.

"Mostly Roy was just suspicious," she begins. "He knew you and I were friends, and you know how he was, always getting jealous so easily. He suspected a lot even though nothing really ever happened between you and me until…later." She shakes her head and shrugs. "I think part of it was that he knew if I left him he'd be all alone, so he was really paranoid and didn't trust me at all. He felt like he had to constantly watch over me and make sure I knew I was his."

I fight back my gag reflex thinking of how Roy could have showed her that.

"You have to understand that up until that day he actually hit me, it really was mostly just words. He would threaten a lot and say mean things, but for the most part it was just verbal. Not that that doesn't hurt; a lot of that is probably why I'm still not as confident as I'd like to be, but the point is that most of the time I was physically okay."

Pam takes a bite of her pop tart and a sip of her tea as she gathers her thoughts. "But of course now you know that that wasn't true all of the time. There was one time, pretty soon after Katy came by with her purses, when I was wearing some new lipstick. Inwardly I hated that you were going out with her and you seemed happy, so I wanted to…I don't know, remind you that I was there? Not that you neglected me, but I think even then you were probably trying to distance yourself because I was still with Roy."

I nod, confirming what she's saying, and think back on the women I dated over the years I knew Pam, always trying to find someone who would make me as happy as she could and never coming close. I remember the day she's talking about. I hated that lipstick. It was hard enough to keep from being distracted by Pam without her wearing makeup that focused my attention on her lips.

"So I wore some new lipstick," Pam continues, bringing me back to the present, "and Roy got really mad when he saw me. I met him at his truck and he grabbed me by the back of the head and scrubbed at my lips with his jacket until the skin was raw. He said he didn't like that I'd been wearing that all day when he was the only one I should be trying to impress, and also that the color made me look like a hooker. He told me he was the only one who was ever going to want me anyway so why was I even trying?"

God, I want to kill him. We're both quiet for a moment, Pam's eyes sad and vacant as if she's lost in the past, and I want to bring her back. "I thought you looked beautiful," I admit softly.

Her wide smile is light in this dark day. "Did you really?" A cute blush colors her cheeks and she shakes her head. "I saw you looking at my lips a few times, but I wasn't really sure what to think of it."

"Well, I was really just fighting not to ravish you in the middle of the office," I quip, grateful for the moment of comic relief. "It was a hard day."

She grins even wider and wriggles her eyebrows at me. "Oh, was it now?"

Now I'm the one blushing. I chuckle awkwardly and rub the back of my neck. "Like I said, you're beautiful," I admit honestly.

Her eyes soften and she smiles gently at me before blinking and shaking her head. "Okay. So." Her brow furrows. "I want to be specific so you're not always wondering."

I nod, my expression serious again. "I want that too."

"Okay. So like I said in the video he would grab my arm too hard sometimes. He did that after we played that prank on Dwight about the alliance and we were laughing together when Roy came in. My arm was bruised the next morning from when he led me out of the office. And also the night of the Dundies when I didn't get in his truck. I think he suspected I wanted to spend time with you. Which was true."

Her expression is conflicted as she taking another bite of her pop tart and chews thoughtfully. Finally she swallows and nods, holding my gaze seriously. "I'm going to tell you the worst, okay? Just so you'll know it was never worse than this."

My heart squeezes painfully but I nod, preparing myself for the worst.

"It was the night after you told me you were going to Australia. God, Jim, I was so sad. And I was angry that I was sad because I knew I shouldn't be feeling that way, or at least not _that much_. You were my best friend, so it made sense that I wouldn't be happy you were missing my wedding. But it sort of hit me that you were the one I wanted there the most, even more than _Roy_, and that scared me." She folds her hands together and grips them until the knuckles are white, keeping her eyes focused on the pale skin. Her voice is soft and sad. "I told Roy I was really sad that you wouldn't be coming. I figured that he was my fiancé, so I should be able to share my feelings with him like you'd mentioned. But of course he got angry and jealous. We got in a huge fight and he said maybe I should be marrying you instead, and we were both screaming."

Her voice catches on the last word and she lets out a shuddering breath. I reach out and take her hand, and she squeezes it gratefully.

"I ran upstairs to the bathroom and locked the door. He was banging on it and yelling at me, and I said I was taking a bath and he needed to go downstairs and calm down. He left and I didn't hear anything for a good half hour. I was in the bathtub crying and trying to figure out what I was feeling, and all of a sudden I heard his footsteps and he kicked the door open. The lock broke." Her voice is shaking, my heart is shattering, and I don't want to hear what happens next. "He was so drunk and angry, and he leaned over me and grabbed my shoulder and told me to say that I was his. I didn't know what he was going to do, so I said I was, I said I'd always be his and no other man would ever have me. Then he stumbled back downstairs. There was a hand-shaped bruise on my shoulder for days. I stayed in the bathtub until the water was freezing and promised myself I was going to go into the bedroom and pack my things and leave, but instead I just crawled into bed and the next morning I was still there."

A tiny sob touched with relief escapes from her lips and I gather her into my arms and hold her as she cries. "I was so stupid," she sobs. "I let him treat me like I was nothing."

"You were scared," I whisper against her forehead. "And you left."

"Not that night," she protests weakly.

"You did eventually," I shoot back. "You were so brave, sweetheart, for finally leaving. And now you're safe."

She sighs and wraps her arms tighter around me. "I feel safe with you."

I smile against her hair. "I'm glad. I always want you to feel safe with me."

We hold each other for a long time. My chest feels full to bursting, both with the weight of all that's been told to me and also because the worst is over. There's so much to take in.

Once again, Pam's stomach interrupts the relaxed moment. We both burst out laughing and can't stop for a full minute, we're both so giddy with relief and an overwhelming array of other emotions. At last Pam stands. "So I'll go upstairs and pack. You want to text Michael and tell him we're going to take tomorrow off also?"

I nod, wrapping my arms around her waist again and pressing my cheek against her stomach. "I love you, Pamela Beesly-someday-Halpert."

She chuckles and rakes her fingers through my hair. "That's what Michael called me this morning."

"Well," I say with a shrug, letting her go, "it's true." She leans down to press her lips to my forehead and winks as she walks toward our bedroom. I exhale slowly and put my head in my hands, too overwrought to even begin to process everything. All I know is I love Pam and she loves me, and for now that's all I need to know.

**Too cheesy? I was definitely cringing. But these two are cheeseballs, so it's unavoidable. Stay tuned for the next chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I don't own the Office or any of its characters.**

**Warning: mentions of sexual assault, assault and battery, physical and verbal abuse**

Between packing, cleaning up our apartment, and finally getting lunch, it takes us another hour to actually drive out of Scranton. Jim and I decide that it's maybe not a great idea for us to actually go out to eat because of my black eye, so instead we just pick something up at a drive thru and head on out of town. Jim said that Michael responded more politely to his text than he ever has before, likely because he knows what a hard day we're having. He told us to take all the time we need and to let him know if we need anything from him.

He can be irritating, annoying, and selfish, but sometimes it's really great to have a friend like Michael Scott.

Mark gave Jim some new music yesterday at the volleyball game so we set up his iPod and settle in for the three hour drive. I really like driving long distances, but I know I'm way too exhausted from the long day we've had and Jim promised me he's okay, so he drives. We also get drinks from Starbucks with extra shots of espresso just in case.

I don't realize how frayed my nerves are until I actually get to sit quietly for a little while. My mind is racing as I try to process this completely overwhelming day, and from Jim's furrowed brow and the way he's tapping restlessly against the steering wheel I know he's probably feeling the same.

It's been over a year since I ended things with Roy once and for all. But having to watch the video again and telling Jim, the man I love, about all these awful things that Roy did to me, makes it feel like it happened yesterday. I know this is going to be better in the end because it's making me more open and vulnerable with Jim, but I'd thought I would have time to prepare myself for this. As it is I had no time to prepare myself emotionally for everything that's happened today thanks to revealing it to Jim completely by accident. Add to that watching the video for the first time, getting ready to go see my parents and talk to them about this, and remembering that awful worst memory, and I'm a wreck.

We've been driving for just under an hour when Jim takes my hand, stroking the back gently with his thumb, and I realize I'm crying openly. I heave in a shaky breath and shake my head. "I'm sorry," I choke out.

"It's okay," Jim replies sincerely with a squeeze to my hand. "This day has just been one painful reveal after another for you." I glance over and see him blinking rapidly. "I mean, I'm about to cry too so we might as well cry together."

The thought of Jim crying just makes me cry harder and I give up on trying to pull myself together. With Jim, I can be totally honest and open. I raise his hand and press my lips to the palm as I sob harder and he gently squeezes my chin.

It feels nice to just openly cry, and after a couple minutes I'm starting to feel better. I wipe roughly at my eyes, wincing as I press against the tender skin, and let out a wet laugh. "God, if we got pulled over right now…"

Jim laughs as he wipes his own eyes. "How would we even explain ourselves?"

"Umm…my cat died?"

Jim taps on the steering wheel. "You know what, I've got it. What about our coworker, Dwight K. Schrute, is in the hospital because he was preparing for a theoretical apocalyptic event and hurt himself burying the railroad car he bought as a bomb shelter?"

I burst out laughing and pat his hand. "That's perfect! I almost wish we'd get pulled over just to try it out."

"Whoa, don't curse us, Beesly," Jim chides jokingly.

We're quiet for a few minutes, both of us enjoying the new music from Mark. "I keep thinking about how I spoke to you your first day back after that week," Jim says softly. "I was such a jerk, and you had just had the worst week of your life…"

"Yeah, you were really mean," I have to agree honestly. "I think Dwight was the nicest he'd ever been to me that day, but you were awful."

I glance over to see Jim looking even sadder if possible. "Wow," he finally replies, "I kind of hate myself right now."

I shake my head. "You had no idea, Jim. Knowing what you did, I can totally understand why you acted the way you did. You were disappointed with me for getting back with Roy in the first place. You were angry at Roy for trying to hurt you and Karen. And from what you've told me about that time, you were trying to ignore me and focus on Karen. It makes sense. I think if you'd been paying attention you would have been suspicious that something was wrong. And I know that, if you'd known, you never would have said what you did."

He nods. "You're right, I wouldn't have, but I still shouldn't have said it the way I did. I should have trusted your judgment when you said it was really over between you two."

I shrug. "But my judgment wasn't good back then, and my getting back with Roy only proved that. You didn't know that something had happened that assured we were never getting back together."

He shakes his head. "Well, I still should have respected your decision. So I'm offering my formal apology."

He says the last sentence with a fake English accent and I grin, offering my own in return. "Well, thank you, kind sir, I gladly accept."

"But seriously," he continues, "I'm sorry about what I said that day and for…how I treated you."

"I know, baby," I reply softly. "Thank you."

He smiles gently at me. "You want to try and take a nap? You look really tired."

I scoff. "Thanks, charmer." But I still find myself bunching up his jacket and using it as a pillow as I lean against the window. "Wake me up if you start feeling sleepy."

"Will do, Sleeping Beauty."

* * *

><p>Pam is fast asleep within five minutes, hard evidence of how exhausted she is because usually it takes her much longer. I have two hours just to think, which is nice after being loaded with new information the entire morning. I need time to process everything and some of that has to be done apart from Pam because some of the things I'm dealing with are things I don't know how to talk about with her.<p>

I don't understand why she hadn't told me about this before. I get that she was scared and ashamed, but she knows how much I love her and she said she trusts me. Why hadn't she trusted me with this until now? I also get that she was trying to move past it and had no idea how to bring it up, but if she realized it had to be brought up eventually why not when we first started dating? Or even a few months ago? We've been very serious since the beginning, and we decided to move in together three months ago. Why wasn't then a good time?

I don't really want to actually ask her these questions because I know she's already having such a hard time dealing with this. I guess I just have to trust her judgment like I should have back when she said things were over between her and Roy. Whatever her reasons for keeping it from me, it's out now and the only thing we can do is work through it.

It's way too soon to do more than scratch the surface of how we're going to get through this, so it's also way too soon for me to stop blaming myself for never seeing this. Looking back it all makes so much sense and the signs seem glaringly obvious, but I guess, like Pam said, I wasn't looking for them. If anything I was in denial; I may have suspected something based on what a jerk Roy was but ultimately I wanted Pam to be safe and happy, so I convinced myself that she was.

How did she keep that from everyone at work for almost five years? I was her best friend so I blame myself the most, but no one suspected _anything_ and we saw her almost every single day. Did none of the women ever walk in the bathroom when she was examining the bruises on her arms in the mirror? Did none of us ever notice that she flinches when someone yells? It just all seems so apparent now, and none of us ever knew.

I have so many questions to ask her parents too. I don't want to insult them since they'll probably be my in-laws someday, but seriously, what the hell? Their daughter dated this douchebag for years and they never suspected anything? Pam told me that things only started getting bad after she and Roy got engaged so I guess she lived farther away from her parents then, but they're her _parents_. Shouldn't they have been able to see that something was off? I don't want to flood them with guilt any more than I'm weighed down by it myself, but I just don't understand.

Nothing makes sense.

After about an hour I'm interrupted from my line of despondent thinking when Pam gives a funny little snort and wakes herself up. I can't help but burst out laughing and she squints angrily at me. "Why are you laughing at me?" she grumbles. "I'm barely even conscious."

I shake my head. "It's nothing, babe. Did you sleep?"

She nods and moves to rub her eyes, but I wince when she does. "Yeah, I really did. Thanks, that was nice." She stretches her arms above her head. "What were you thinking about?" She bats her eyelashes at me. It would have been more attractive if she wasn't still bleary eyed with sleep, but I still think she's adorable. "Probably about how beautiful I am, right?"

I roll my eyes and grin. "Not everything's about you, Pamela."

She scoffs. "Actually it is, Jim." Her brow furrows as she studies me. "Seriously, what's up? You look sad."

For just a moment I'm frustrated at how well she can read me. "Still just trying to wrap my mind around all of this. And angry that I never saw anything, and no one else did either."

"My parents will definitely bring that up too," Pam says. "They were really broken up that they'd never suspected anything, like I think you are. All I can say is that I hid everything from the people who were most important to me, and if the me then could look ahead to now she'd probably be proud that no one ever suspected anything."

My mouth turns down at the thought but I get where she's coming from. "I just need more time to process this, and no offense, but I don't think more talking is going to do anything but weigh my mind down further."

She nods. "I understand. How much further do we have, do you think?"

"About an hour," I reply. "Do you need to stop or you want to just keep going?"

"Let's just get there. I'm already sick of driving and I've slept through most of it." Her cell phone buzzes. "My mom's wondering what time we're going to arrive so she can put the pizzas in the oven."

"Tell her 5:30, it'll probably be a little sooner but we'll give ourselves some extra time just in case."

We're quiet for the rest of the drive as we listen to some soothing music. I'm holding her hand, stroking the back with my thumb, and she's humming softly to the music. We pull up in her parents' driveway at 5:15. I hold onto her hand as she moves to open the door.

"I just want you to know that I have questions for your parents, but I can ask them when you're not there. I mean, if it's too much, just say the word. I want to protect you from reliving this any more than you have to." I give her hand a squeeze to emphasize my point. "And also I love you even more than I did this morning, which I hadn't thought was possible."

She stares at me for a long moment and finally exhales harshly. "Jim, I had a very refreshing nap, but I'm still exhausted. It's been a very emotional day and you can't expect me not to cry _again_ when you say that."

I can't help but laugh at her frustrated tone. "That's the last time I try to sweet talk you."

Frustrated, she brushes at her eyes and nods. "Well, good. I'm done with that too."

I grin. "I'll just save it for your mom. Maybe she'll make the cookies we had last time. I _loved_ those."

She lets out a loud laugh and waves at her mom as she comes to stand on their porch and wait for us. "Well, that's definitely the way to her heart. Let me know if you two need a moment alone." She grimaces as the words leave her mouth and she seems to realize what she's said.

I'm laughing too as I climb out of the car and grab our bags out of the backseat. "That went downhill fast, weirdo. You're lucky I love you enough to tolerate that sort of freaky humor."

She shrugs, shaking her hips a little as she starts walking toward the house. "If you still love me after that, it's definitely gonna last."

I think of the ring I have hidden in my dresser drawer in our apartment and can't help but agree.

**I kind of hate this chapter. Next up, conversations with Pam's parents!**


	6. Chapter 6

**I don't own the Office or any of its characters.**

**Warning: mentions of sexual assault, assault and battery, physical and verbal abuse**

If I had to choose any three people to spend an evening with, it would be Jim and my parents.

Some may say this is sad, but I've never professed to be an extrovert. I am a homebody and an introvert to the core, so I'm most happy with the people I'm most comfortable with. My parents and the love of my life happen to be those people

I love bringing Jim with me to visit my parents. They get along so well with him, likely because his sense of humor is similar to mine so they're used to it, and also because he's such a fun, charismatic person who gets along with just about everybody. He's a total charmer too. After Roy, who never really tried at all, I know my parents love Jim.

That being said, the four of us have never dealt with so heavy an issue as we need to tonight. Usually we're just laughing and joking around, having a good time, which is great. We're halfway through dinner before my dad finally brings up the elephant in the room.

"So tell your mom and I again how you got this black eye, sweetheart?" he asks abruptly, right after he and Jim have finished laughing about some sort of joke to do with computers. My mom and I had been chatting about a quilt she's making, so Jim and my dad decided to bore us in return.

Instantly the room is deathly quiet. I swallow my bite of pizza with a click of my throat that seems to echo and don't even realize I've reached for Jim's hand until he's gently squeezing my fingers. "Well, we were playing volleyball yesterday with Jim's old roommate and some of his friends, and the volleyball hit me in the face."

"And how did the subject of…the previous incident come up?" he presses, his expression serious but gentle as he sits across from me and holds my mom's hand next to him.

I take a deep breath and remind myself that I am surrounded by people who love me and who want to get past this just as much as I do. "I was about to put concealer on it this morning before we went to work and Jim said that people were going to think he hit me, and I made a stupid joke and said it wasn't like I'd never covered up a black eye before."

My parents both nod slowly, their expressions serious and sad. My mom's eyes are shiny and I take her other hand with my free one. "I know you both had…a lot to deal with when it happened," I continue, "and Jim feels the same way. You all love me and hate that this happened, just as I do. And I think you both still blame yourselves for not seeing what was going on, when really it was my decision all along."

My dad looks like he's about to protest but I shake my head. "It wasn't up to any of you," I say forcefully. "I was twenty-eight years old, completely responsible for my own life choices. I knew the relationship I was in wasn't healthy. I knew I didn't deserve to be treated that way. But I let my fears and my doubts control me for a long time. I was too stubborn to move on, too embarrassed. My biggest regret in all of this would be that any of you feel justified in blaming yourselves, because I don't feel that way at all."

"Do you blame yourself though, sweetheart?" my mom asks, her expression heartbroken.

I think about this for a moment. "Yes and no," I reply finally. "I used to blame myself for Roy's actions. I hadn't done something right, so it was my fault he was angry and bruised my arm. That's what he told me, and for a long time I believed him."

I cast a glance at Jim and he looks sick. I squeeze his hand, waiting for him to meet my eyes before continuing with a tiny, reassuring smile.

"But I see now how wrong that line of thinking was. Roy was wholly responsible for all of his actions. I didn't deserve any of his hurtful words, or the bruises, or the ill treatment. I deserve more than that just as a person. The only thing I hold myself at fault for was not leaving when I knew how wrong our relationship was."

We're all quiet for a moment as they process these words. Finally Jim nods slowly. "I have to say that I agree with you," he says at last, casting an anxious glance at my dad like he's worried he'll be angry. "Of course none of what Roy did to you was your fault. But ultimately you were responsible for your decision to stay." He chews on his lip, his expression one of deep thought, before speaking again. "But I will say that you saying all that doesn't make me feel absolved of blame. Because what if I'd said something about my concerns, or pointed out that the way Roy treated you wasn't right, and that was what it took for you to have that courage to leave? If I'd just been…_honest_ with you about what I was seeing, or maybe just opened my eyes…"

I want to protest, to fight him on this, but my dad places a gentle hand on Jim's shoulder and nods to the back door. "Jim, have I ever showed you my shop out back?"

Jim takes the extremely unsubtle hint and stands. "I'd love to see it, Paul." He smiles at me and squeezes my hand before releasing it and following my father outside.

I let out a weary sigh and turn to my mom, opening my mouth to speak when she interrupts me. "Cookies?"

"Sure." I clear the table, piling the dishes in the sink as she begins to gather the ingredients. My mom's expression is pensive and thoughtful and I wait for her to speak.

"Sweetheart," she finally begins, pouring cups of flour and sugar into a large mixing bowl, "you have to understand that Jim is probably always going to feel this way to a certain extent. _I_ do, and I know your father still does. We hate ourselves for being so blind. And I can't help but understand where Jim is coming from because he _did_ see you every day, he _did_ observe your interactions with Roy. He'll always wish he had seen what seems so obvious now. If I'm being honest with you, I think greater harm will come from you trying to…_fix_ this instead of just accepting that he's angry at himself and moving forward in your relationship."

"I just hate causing him pain," I whisper, leaning against the counter with a sigh. "Hurting him hurts me."

"Well, your pain is his pain too," she points out. "He hurts for you, just as I hurt for you, and your father does." She reaches out and gently brushes the back of her hand against my cheek just beneath the bruise. "I think it'll help when this fades. I hate seeing you like this."

"I know. It'll fade soon." I grab a bag of chocolate chips from the cabinet. "We watched the video of my testimony before we left."

My mom is silent as she waits for me to continue.

"I forgot how bad it looked," I whisper. "And Jim seeing it…" Not surprisingly, my eyes fill with tears again. "It's so humiliating."

"_No_, honey," my mom replies forcefully. "I refuse to let you say something like that. Jim loves you. It was painfully obvious years before he actually told you, and that hasn't changed. Finding out about this isn't going to change it either, and you should never feel embarrassed about being vulnerable with him."

"I know," I sigh. "But there's so much I regret, and I wish he didn't feel this way too."

"It'll get better, sweetheart," my mom says with a warm, reassuring smile. "Eventually, it'll get better."

* * *

><p>Pam's dad and I have always gotten along really well. I charmed the socks off her mom the first time she met me, so I think maybe she said something about me to her husband before we met because he liked me right away. Pam also said she'd talked about me a lot to him, which was really nice of her. He has a similar sense of humor to Pam, so we can joke around easily, and he's a businessman too so we can talk about work. Add to that the love we both have for Pam and we really don't have to work too hard to enjoy our time together.<p>

But this is rough.

Paul's shop is located in a shed connected to the garage. He does woodwork on his days off; he made the desk where Pam draws most of the time. He points out a few pieces he's working on before finally gesturing for me to sit down at the workbench and taking a stool across from me. "Time for some honesty, Jim. After I found out about Roy hurting Pam, I went to a few sessions with a therapist. He didn't pull any punches, he told me like it was, and he was_ brutally_ honest. It really helped me when I was overwhelmed with so many emotions I didn't know how to process. So tell me what you're feeling, Jim," he orders bluntly.

That's another thing I like about Pam's dad. He doesn't beat around the bush, much as we'd both like to live in denial about someone hurting his daughter.

I sigh heavily and stare down at my folded hands for a moment as I try to gather my thoughts. "I want to kill Roy," I finally admit softly.

He nods. "I do too."

His agreement bolsters me. "I…_hate_ him. I mean, I never really liked the guy but after finding out about all this I just…" I shake my head, my forearms tensing as anger boils up inside me. "But I don't feel like that's really something I should tell Pam because she already dealt with some of that with him…"

"And I appreciate that," Paul affirms. "I agree with you, Pam's already dealt with more anger than she ever deserved. And also this isn't something she can help you with. This anger isn't something that can be taken out against Roy because then you and I would be the ones in jail. You know what I did, Jim, after I found out? I bought a punching bag. And when that one got too worn out, I got another one." He nods to the corner where a punching bag hangs. "And that's the third one. I don't need it as much anymore, but I do get angry sometimes and I don't want to talk about it with Larissa because she's so sad about the whole ordeal on her own. Sometimes you just need to be angry and take it out on an inanimate object."

The first thing I'm planning to do when Pam and I get home is go to the gym and kill a punching bag with Roy's face on it.

"And I hate myself," I continue quietly after several minutes of silence. "I know Pam doesn't want to hear that but I hate myself for not seeing what was happening."

"And you know, Jim," Paul says, "that's just something you have to learn to accept. Should I have stopped my daughter from dating a football player when she was barely eighteen and I knew she deserved better? Probably. Should you have seen some of those signs she tried to hide from you? Maybe. But it happened, much as you and I both hate it. And all we can do is move on."

"I wish she had trusted me enough to tell me sooner," I whisper, bringing to light the thing I'm having the hardest time wrapping my mind around.

"Larissa and I felt that way too," he affirms, "but I get what you're saying—you two have been dating for awhile, so why didn't she tell you sooner? I think the biggest factor in that was fear. She didn't want you to know. She's still ashamed about what he did, and she didn't want you to think less of her. She knew you would blame yourself, and she didn't want that because she loves you. And maybe part of her is in denial that any of it ever happened. But that's all beside the point, because now you know. All you can do from here is accept the awful truth and move on."

A tear slips past the defenses of my eyelashes and down my cheek. "Were you and Larissa at the trial?"

His jaw clenches and he nods. "Pam doesn't know we went. I almost leaped the railing when the bastard walked in. That video was awful to watch, and I understand you saw the…extended version, which I imagine was even worse."

"She's the best person I've ever known," I choke out, "and he treated her like _dirt_." I open and close my mouth several times like a fish, but I can't put into words everything else I'm feeling.

"Jim," Paul says softly, leaning forward and waiting for me to meet his eyes before continuing, "the pain will always be there. For both you and Pam. But you make my daughter happy, happier than she ever was with Roy. I believe you two can only grow from this."

I heave in a shaky breath and nod. "That's what I want. It's what we both want."

Really there's nothing more to say. We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Paul stands and I follow him out of the shop.

The house smells amazing and we walk into the kitchen just as Larissa is pulling a baking sheet of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. Pam is standing at the sink washing dishes and she smiles at both of us over her shoulder as we walk in. "Hey," Larissa greets us with a smile that doesn't quite hide the fact that her eyes are red. "_The Addams Family_ is coming on in a few minutes. Do you guys want to watch that?"

We spend the rest of the evening eating cookies and watching the movie. Usually Pam and I aren't quite so affectionate when we're at her parents' house, but she sits right in my lap and her parents don't seem to mind that we snuggle the whole evening. I want to be close to her, and she seems to feel the same way. We're both nodding off by the time the movie's over at ten and we bid Larissa and Paul good night before stumbling off to the guest room.

Pam climbs into bed and wraps her arms tight around me as I reach over and turn off the light. "Today was the best horrible day."

I can't help but chuckle at her apt description of what we've experienced in the past twenty-four hours. "Tomorrow will be better."

She nods and yawns widely. "I love you," she whispers, resting her cheek against my chest.

"Love you too," I reply with a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Sleep tight."

'Best horrible day' indeed.


	7. Chapter 7

**I don't own the Office or any of its characters.**

**Warning: mentions of sexual assault, assault and battery, physical and verbal abuse**

I wake up anxious, feeling sick to my stomach with my brain racing before I'm even fully conscious. I fling my arm to the other side of the bed, hoping to find Jim still with me, but the sheets are cold. I clench my fists and take some calming breaths, utilizing the technique I used to use quite a lot when fighting off panic attacks brought on by remembering Roy. Clenching every muscle in my body as I inhale to the count of five, and loosening up as I exhale deeply to the count of five again. I think the counting helps more than anything, something to fix my frazzled mind upon, but it's not doing much for me today.

I dress quickly, still counting and breathing deeply, and attempt to arrange my expression into one of peace as I walk out of the room and head toward the kitchen.

Jim and my mom are at the stove, both laughing lightly as he scoops some scrambled eggs onto a plate and she flips some bacon. I stand quietly in the doorway for a moment, just watching them, before my mom turns and sees me. "Good morning, sweetheart!" she exclaims. "You want some breakfast?"

I take in a shaky breath, still trying to fight the feeling of my lungs being crushed by strong, meaty hands, and catch Jim's eye. "In a minute, I just…"

"Hey, Pam," Jim interrupts, thankfully taking my mom's careful eye off of me, "before I forget, your mom was telling me about a photo album in one of the drawers in our room. Do you mind showing me before we eat?"

I nod quickly. "Sure. We'll be right back, Mama."

I think she knows something's wrong, but she seems to realize I just need Jim right now. "Okay, honey."

He takes my hand firmly in his as we walk quickly back to the room, and I wrap my arms around his waist as soon as the door is closed. "Hey," he murmurs, gently running his fingers through my hair, "what's wrong?"

"I just can't calm down," I whisper in a tear-filled voice.

He nods. Jim knows I get anxious easily and have a hard time calming down on my own. "Did you try the thing where you tense up and then breathe out?"

I nod, pressing my forehead against his chest and squeezing him harder. "It helps when you're with me."

He takes my hand and places it over his heart like we have so many times before and starts breathing deeply, nodding when I start breathing with him. "1, 2, 3, 4, 5," he whispers into my ear, pressing his hand over mine.

After a few minutes I finally let out one last deep breath and nod. "'There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart'," I whisper as I press my lips against his chest.

"What?"

"It's just a quote from Jane Austen," I explain with a shrug, resting my chin on his chest so I can look up at him. "It always made me think of you."

He gives me a gentle smile and presses his lips to my forehead. "I like that. It reminds me of you too." He brushes his thumb against my cheek. "Feeling better?"

I nod and snuggle up against him. "You always know what to do."

He grins. "Well, I'm glad _you_ think so. 'Fake it 'til you make it' must be working for me."

I laugh. "We'd better go out. My mom's going to think I dragged you in here to seduce you."

"Hey, if she asks…" He winks at me and pulls me by the hand back to the kitchen.

Once we get there I remember we were supposed to be going to look at a photo album, but thankfully my mom doesn't bring it up. She explains that my dad will be back around lunchtime to see us before we head out, and the three of us eat breakfast in a companionable silence. We spend the morning hanging those pictures my dad never got around to yesterday, watching old home videos from when my sister and I were little, and just hanging out.

My dad spends his lunch hour with us and Jim and I head out at the same time as he does, promising to call and let them know when we're home safely and if we need anything. I drive this time, hoping Jim will try to take a nap because he looks so exhausted, but he doesn't seem too tired.

"So what did you and my mom talk about this morning before I got up?" I ask after we've been driving in companionable silence for about half an hour.

"We really didn't talk about any heavy stuff," he replies, shifting in his seat a little so he can face me. "She was just telling me about the quilting class she's taking and I was telling her about what Michael and Dwight have been getting up to lately."

I glance over at him and he's chewing his lip thoughtfully. Finally he speaks again. "She just told me she's glad you have me."

I smile. "Did she cry?"

He chuckles and nods bashfully. "Yep. But really it was just sweet, I didn't feel uncomfortable."

I want to ask him about what he and my dad talked about last night, but I have a feeling he doesn't want to share it with me because he hasn't brought it up yet. I assume there are things my dad has dealt with since this whole ordeal that he hasn't told me about, or maybe even my mom. It'll probably be the same with Jim. That doesn't mean we don't trust each other, but some of this has to be dealt with on our own. He may choose to talk about it with someone other than me, like I've chosen to do with my best friend from college, Sharon. He'll have his own coping mechanisms, like I have mine. And there will be some things he'll choose not to tell me about; I'll do the same, like how I go to yoga classes to help me relax and learn how to take better control of my body—it's not just about stretching or exercise.

"Pam?" I glance over to see Jim waving at me with a smile. "Where'd you go?"

I shrug. "I was just thinking about how you're going to need to process some of this on your own, like I do, and I need to accept that. It's okay if we're not sharing every feeling we have."

He nods. "I agree, but I don't want you to ever feel like you shouldn't share something with me. If you want to talk to me about something, I want to listen."

I cast him a grateful smile. "Thanks, love of my life."

He grins. "You're welcome, love of my life." We're quiet for a few minutes before he speaks again. "So I was thinking I could drop you off at home and I could go by work to talk to Michael and Dwight. What do you think?"

Seeing as yesterday felt like a week, it's hard to imagine going back to our normal lives, which include work. But getting back into the swing of things is part of what it takes to move on. That includes Jim addressing this issue with our coworkers, and I understand why he may want to do that alone. "Okay," I reply after several moments of contemplation. "That works for me."

Thanks to a traffic accident holding up the freeway, it's already five by the time we make it back to our apartment and Jim has to hurry to make it to Dunder Mifflin by 5:15. He quickly helps me carry our bags inside, presses his lips to mine, and dashes back to the car, leaving me alone.

The apartment is quiet and still as I unpack our things and make myself busy boiling some noodles for a simple dinner of spaghetti. It's hard to believe that it's only been a day since Jim found out about all of this. I feel like I've aged a year.

Yesterday, when those fateful words accidentally slipped out, I felt like it was the end of the world. It's only now that I'm beginning to understand that really, this is the first step into a real, solid relationship with Jim, with all my skeletons out of the closet and laid bare before him.

* * *

><p>It's just after 5:15 when I pull into the parking lot of Dunder Mifflin, thankful to see the only cars still there are Michael's and Dwight's. Hank the security guard greets me and I take the stairs two at a time, eager to get this over with and get home to Pam. It's the first time I've been apart from her in two days and I already miss her.<p>

It seems apropos that I find them both in the conference room after yesterday when I spoke to Amy, Keith, and Pam in this room. I'm grateful to see the office is completely empty and the camera crew seems to have gone home for the day.

"Jim!" Michael exclaims, standing and giving me a big smile as I walk in. He walks over and pulls me into a firm hug before releasing me and clapping me on the shoulder. "Good to see you made it back safely."

"Good to see you too, Michael," I reply as he sits down next to Dwight. "Dwight."

"Jim," Dwight greets with a nod as I move to sit across from the two of them.

Now that I'm here I'm unsure of where to start, and neither of them seem to know quite how to begin. I'm surprised when Dwight is the first to speak. "How is Pam?"

"She's doing alright," I reply, settling back in my chair and nodding. "We had a really hard day yesterday but I think we're both doing a lot better now that we've been able to talk about…all this. She wanted me to tell you both hi." I gnaw on my lip for a moment. "I wanted to…thank you both, for taking care of her when I was…not here."

Michael nods solemnly. "I think I speak for both of us when I say that Pam is our friend, and so are you." Dwight raises an eyebrow at this but doesn't prevent Michael from continuing. "We cared for her because we love her, and also because we knew you felt the same." He shakes his head, and I think it may be the first time I've ever seen righteous, true anger in his eyes. "I know I hate Roy about as much as I've ever hated another person before."

I clear my throat roughly, trying to control my own anger so we don't get sidetracked. "Dwight," I say softly, turning to this coworker that I've alternately hated and tolerated over the years, the one who protected the woman I love at a time when I wasn't there, "I've been wracking my brain trying to remember every detail of that day. And I may have been crying from the pepper spray, but I think I remember that your hand was bleeding when Karen and I came out of the bathroom. Did you punch Roy?"

Dwight lets out a weary, exasperated sigh. "No, Jim, I did not _punch_ Roy." He looks a bit uncomfortable and finally holds up his right hand, flexing the fingers experimentally. "If I'm being honest, I would have to admit that I punched the wall instead." He tilts his head to the side. "If I happened to stand with my entire weight upon Roy's hand at the same time, it was wholly coincidental."

I grin, part of me wanting to hug Dwight. Instead I ask another question. "And she told me she went to see you on your beet farm several days later?"

He nods. "I served her the beet tea my mother used to make for me when I was having a hard day. As Pam had just experienced the most traumatic event of her life, evidenced by her horribly disfigured face, I thought the gesture more than justified. I also thought it would comfort her to know that no one else in the office knew about the events that had occurred, but saying this only served to make her cry more so I don't know that telling her was actually the best course of action."

To my chagrin I'm actually tearing up at his words. "I happen to know she was very grateful to know that, Dwight," I whisper, swiping at my eyes and knowing he'll never let me live this down. He nods silently in response and I think maybe he'll actually let this moment of weakness go.

Michael leans forward expectantly when I turn to him and I can't help but be grateful at how willing and eager he always is to help the people lucky enough to be called his friends. "Michael, can you tell me about when Pam called you after it happened? I just…how did she sound? And what did she say?"

"Well," he begins after taking a moment to gather his thoughts, "of course she sounded very shaken up. She was crying. Our conversation was very brief. She simply told me that Roy had tried to attack you and Dwight had pepper sprayed everyone. She was vague about what led up to Roy actually hitting her, but she said he had and she was on her way to the police station. She was very clear about my not telling anyone else about what had happened, _especially_ you. She did not want you to find out under any circumstances. She asked if she could have the rest of the week off, I agreed, and she told me she would be in contact."

He shakes his head. "I made that sound like it was a really calm, clear conversation, but it wasn't at all. Like I said, she was crying. At one point I thought she was hyperventilating so I had her stop to take some deep breaths. I asked her several questions and she didn't even seem to hear me, she was just wholly focused on telling me the necessary information and getting to the police station. Toward the end of the call I suggested again that maybe it would be good to let you know, and she yelled at me, saying that she would quit if I did that. She started crying even more, so of course I agreed not to tell you." He sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I really wanted to kill the bastard right then."

The three of us are quiet for a minute, the only sound coming from the hum of the air conditioning and the faithful drip of the sink. "Thanks," I finally murmur. "And what about the day you and Toby went to see her? Can you tell me about that?"

"So we went to her apartment on a Thursday," Michael begins, "and, I have to tell you, Jim, it was a shock when she answered the door. I hadn't seen her since the morning before everything happened, when she was fine, and I just don't think I expected her to look that bad. Of course you've seen the video by now so you know what she looked like, but it was a real shock. We had Jan on the phone and Toby just had Pam answer all the questions he needed to file the report. She cried a little more, but at that point she seemed kind of…numb, I guess you could say. Like she'd been dealing with too much over the past few days and was kind of just emotionally overwhelmed. Jan promised her that the only other person who would have to know about this was David Wallace—other than that it would be kept completely confidential—and Pam seemed really relieved to hear that."

That's the last question I have for them, and Michael hurries right out after hugging me again, saying he'd pushed his date to six for this. He presses a small slip of paper into my hand, telling me to read it with Pam.

Dwight and I walk out together and he stands silently by my car for several seconds before finally breaking the silence that's beginning to get awkward. "You know, Jim," he begins, "I have always disapproved of the way you've handled your relationship with Pam. To start off you basically wore your heart on your sleeve for three years, hoping desperately she would look beyond her idiot fiancé and run into your arms without you ever saying a word. Then you ran away from all your problems by transferring to Stamford, where you could have had a fresh start at life if only you hadn't been transferred back, this time with a new girlfriend whom you were only using to try and get over your broken heart while at the same time breaking Pam's by treating her like the two of you had never even been friends."

If he's trying to be encouraging, Dwight definitely needs a couple pointers.

"However," he continues begrudgingly, "now that the two of you have finally had the guts to profess your feelings for each other—which, I must say, is a bonafide miracle because the two of you are idiots when it comes to matters of the heart—you both seem happier than I can recall since I met either of you." He sighs wearily, looking like he'd like to knock me up the side of my idiot head since I don't seem to be grasping the hidden meaning behind his words.

"My _point_," he finally spits out in a frustrated tone, "is that the travesty of what was done to Pam should not be considered by either of you as a hindrance in your relationship. You seem to make her happy, and from the way _you_ are constantly grinning like a buffoon, she apparently does the same for you. So don't let this incident break you two apart. I find you only barely tolerable now and don't want to have to deal with your broken heart all over again." He turns without another word and stalks away to his car. "I will see you both in the morning!" he yells harshly over his shoulder.

Stunned, I find several minutes have passed before I finally blink and move to unlock my car door. I think Dwight just spoke to me like he would a friend.

**Only Dwight could express his affection through insults. Thoughts? Did he end up sounding too much like Spock?**


	8. Chapter 8

**I don't own the Office or any of its characters.**

**Warning: mentions of sexual assault, assault and battery, physical and verbal abuse**

I'm just pouring a jar of tomato sauce into the pot of noodles when Jim gets home. He looks tired, but content. "How'd it go?" I ask as he walks into the kitchen.

"Good," he replies, grasping my hips and gently kissing me hello. "I think Dwight said I was his friend, in a really roundabout, insulting kind of way."

"How else would he do it?" I quip, and gesture to the spaghetti. "Are you hungry yet?"

He nods and goes to grab some bowls from the cabinet. "Did you already unpack?"

"Yep, there wasn't much to do." I sit across from him at our cute little table by the bay window. "Do you want to tell me what you guys talked about?"

He shrugs, blowing on his forkful of pasta before taking a bite. "I just asked Michael to tell me what you were like when you called him, and then when he and Toby came by to file the report. And Dwight told me he punched the wall, but he wished it'd been Roy."

I raise my eyebrows. "Dwight punched a wall? Wow. Didn't think he'd react like that for anyone."

"He also sort of called you his friend," Jim replies, pointing to me with his empty fork, "so maybe that's just the way he reacts when his friends get hurt."

I make a mental note to do something nice for Dwight, like bake him brownies or knit him a sweater or maybe just keep Jim from pranking him for a day.

Jim reaches into his pocket and pulls out an index card, unfolding it and setting it next to his bowl. "I almost forgot, Michael gave this to me. He told me to wait to read it with you." I lean forward, observing the well-known terrible handwriting and bad spelling of Michael Scott, and wait for Jim to start reading.

"'Jim and Pam'," he begins, "as you both know by now, life sucks sometimes. Awful things happen to incredibly good people. I've been thinking a lot about what it'll take for you guys to get through this, how honest you'll have to be with each other. I know I may joke around a lot, but I'm mature enough to know that this is hard stuff (that's what she said—okay, maybe not _that_ mature). My mother showed me this quote a couple years ago when I thought I was in love again. It felt appropriate to share with you."

Jim takes a moment to scan the quote, and when he speaks again his voice is hoarse with emotion. "'To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.' C. S. Lewis." He wipes at his eyes and sniffs. "That's it."

I'm using my napkin to mop up my face and I sniff loudly. "Who would have thought Michael Scott could be such a softy?" I ask, my voice going all high and squeaky on the last word.

Jim's eyes are still shiny as he shakes his head, stands, and picks up our empty bowls to take to the sink. "Not me," he replies. "God, I think I've cried enough these past two days to last me two years." He nods toward the living room. "Want to go watch something funny?"

I hesitate, thinking of the disc I left on top of the TV. "I didn't know if you wanted to watch the security video. I can go check the mail if you want to watch it now."

He doesn't reply as he walks toward the living room, gesturing for me to follow him. I stand in the doorway and watch as he takes the disc in both hands and snaps it in two before placing the pieces carefully on the coffee table and dusting his hands off. He looks up and smiles to see me watching him. "So," he says huskily, walking over until he's right in front of me, "something funny?"

I place my hands on either side of his face and pull him down to me, kissing him without any worry between us for what feels like the first time in days. When I pull back I touch my forehead to his and smile. "Give me just a minute. You want to see what's on?"

While Jim flips through the channels I take Michael's note and tape it inside my journal where I record my life and store precious things I want to keep. This note is a precious thing.

* * *

><p>After the events of the past two days Pam and I are exhausted, so we just watch two episodes of <em>Friends<em> before heading upstairs to bed. I go into the bathroom to brush my teeth and change and when I come out Pam's laying on her side of the bed, fidgeting nervously and staring down at her hands.

"Hey," I greet her softly, waiting 'til she looks up at me. "Everything okay?"

"I wrote you a letter," she replies, picking up an envelope that's sitting next to her and holding it out to me as I climb in with her. "I wanted to tell you some things and…I didn't know how to _say_ them." She waves her hand around in a random gesture. "That quote of Michael's really ties in with what I wrote."

I grin and take the letter gently, reaching in to pull out a simple piece of pink stationary. "Do you want me to read it out loud?"

She shakes her head adamantly. "Just read it."

_Dearest Jim,_

_You know I'm not good with words, not like you are anyway. My thoughts get jumbled up and I have a hard time untangling how to say what I want to say, how things should be organized, you know how I am. Seeing as I left our apartment pretty clean yesterday, I needed some way to utilize my time while you went to talk to Michael and Dwight, so I decided to write you this letter and tell you everything I would say verbally if only I had the time to first write a rough draft in my head._

_You know me now. Everything about me, every fear and harm and joy and dream, they're yours. I've given it all to you. And you care for everything I've given to you. You treat me with the value and respect I've always deserved, but not always received._

_I wish now I had told you sooner, but I was scared. Scared about being that open with you, scared of how you would react, scared you'd decide it was too much and leave. Scared you wouldn't want me anymore. I should have trusted you. I've never loved you more, now that you know and have treated me so lovingly these past two days. Being vulnerable was never something I thought I would like, but it's beautiful with you._

_I don't have to hide anymore. I don't have to pretend to not be scared when we're at a high school football game and a strange man grabs my arm as he shoves past me. I don't have to lie, when you come into the bathroom while I'm taking a bath, and say you just startled me, when really you triggered a flashback. I don't have to tell you I'm scared of hospitals when really it's just one, Memorial, because once I drove there at 2 AM and sat in the parking lot of the ER for an hour trying to talk myself into walking in and showing the bruises on my pelvis and saying I think my fiancé just raped me._

_I can trust you. I can kiss you and know you're here, despite everything, because you want to be. I can admit when I'm scared or sad or angry. I can finally tell you everything._

_You finally really know me, Jim, and you still love me. You still want me. You still trust me._

_I love you. I want you. I trust you._

_From the love of your life,_

_To the love of my life_

I take in a deep breath, placing the letter carefully on my bedside table before turning to Pam. "God, I love you," I murmur, brushing the back of my hand against her cheek and behind her ear as I lean down to kiss her.

She responds enthusiastically, tugging on my shoulders until I'm hovering over her. "I love you too," she murmurs, moving her lips to my neck and pulling harder on me.

I brace my forearms on either side of her head, her lips stopping what they're doing when she notices my hesitation. "What's wrong?" she whispers.

"I just…" My voice trails off as I take in the beautiful sight beneath me, her hair spread out across the pillow, a gentle smile on her lips.

She stretches up and just barely brushes her lips against mine before laying back. "I feel safe with you," she whispers, her eyes locked on mine.

I cover her body with mine and kiss her.

_ When she looked up at him, it was suddenly easy for her to imagine that her fears were pointless. That he would love her no matter what she told him, and that he was the kind of man who loved her already and would love her forever._

_- Nicholas Sparks, _Safe Haven

**And it's finished! What was originally begun as a one-shot turned into much, much more than that and I have to say I'm so pleased and proud of the final result. Thank you to all who followed along and left feedback!**


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